


Keeping Tally

by foolhearty



Series: Unending Appetite [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe- no war, Cockwarming, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-19 20:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11320773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolhearty/pseuds/foolhearty
Summary: Prompto has a tally in his head for today. He arrived at work early this morning, having picked up another warmer’s shift due to illness. He’s been here since 5:00AM, and it must be nearing 11:00 now, perhaps later if Prompto has lost sense of time while kneeling under this table. His tally for the day is fourteen, and he’s greedier still for more.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to me: I am a very weak individual, and I was unable to drop the concept of Crown-employed cockwarmers and magically increased libidos, so I decided to make a series. Also, Regis/Prom is a guilty, guilty ship and I don't have any shame for it? Fics in this series will probably be best read kind of all together, in order, but I don't think it's really necessary. There's just a bit of "AU Story-building" that may appear in some that isn't explained in all of them. Who know's how many chapters this particular fic will end up being, but I plan to write out the remainder of Prompto's day as he keeps a tally of- Well. You'll see. 
> 
> Anyway, here's Prompto being thirsty as fuck for some old man dick.

“Your fitting is at 1:15, correct?”

Prompto feels careful fingers card through his hair in appreciation, even while the conversation continues on without him. Regis is speaking now, playing catch up with Noctis on upcoming events. Whenever there’s a break in conversation, Prompto tempts fate hollows out his cheeks to tease Regis until the conversation picks back up. He’s always had less self-restraint than Ignis, who sits somewhere behind him. The two of them rest comfortably on cushions, their knees kept free from any discomfort that would have arisen otherwise due to the hard nature of the floor in this room.

“Yeah, yeah. I already know. 1:15 for the fitting. Then a speech at the high school.” Prompto can hear the disdain in Noct’s voice as he says the words. If he knows his friend at all, he’d rather do anything in the world than go back to their former school nearly three years after graduation and talk about perseverance. Prompto is sad he won’t be able to see it in person; he’s willing to bet Noct is going to find some way to make a fool out of himself, whether that be by falling asleep during his introduction or tripping up the stairs.

His attention is only sparingly focused on the conversation, though. Nestled between the King’s legs as he is, it’s difficult to focus on anything else but the task at hand and how he so wants to prove he’s truly ready for this position.

Noct had told him his father was looking for another royal cock and bed warmer, after one of his handful of previous ones quit to attend university with the money she’d saved up. According to Noct, the split had been easy, with no hard feelings on the King’s behalf, but after being friends with Noct for so long and seeing in action how difficult it can be for him to handle his needs without Ignis, Prompto had jumped on the offer to work for his father.

Perhaps Noct’s offer had been somewhat of a joke, and Prompto doesn’t like to gloat. It isn’t his style. But if there’s one thing he’s good at aside from photography, it’s sucking dick. ‘Ask Gladio,’ he told Noct once. ‘First time I blew him, the big guy actually teared up!’

The interview process had been extensive. Prompto had been asked to list off every lover and one night stand he may have had in all his life. The list is short enough, contained to his scant friend group and maybe a random or two from clubs in town that had been too careless when he was seventeen and using a bogus fake id to get drinks. These inquiries were less to shame him, but more to find a baseline for his experience. Regis is not a picky man; he holds no preference for purity over experience, or vice versa. Anyone willing to assist him through his needs deserves his praise, not scorn.

After coming out with a clean bill of health in a myriad of medical tests, Prompto was given the position with preference over other applicants. Prompto has a feeling Noct had a hand in that, having likely put in a good word on his behalf, but Prompto is here now and eager to show that regardless of the situation surrounding his hire, he’s ready and willing to work. Happy, even, and not because of the pay.

Regis is kind to him, and sweet, and Prompto allows himself to feel on cloud nine just by being allowed to gain his attention. The job itself was a perk of the job, if that makes any sense at all. Despite his age, Regis is a man with many needs; as Noct explained it to him once, it only gets worse with age. After the onset of puberty, the refractory periods of all within the royal line seem to continue to decrease and decrease. There are legends about some Kings and Queens of old going mad, near the ends of their lives, unable to sate themselves. In modern times, though, this issue is counteracted by a more lax public stance on the crown keeping their cock warmers with them at all hours of the day.

Prompto and Ignis, as well as all the others Regis specifically employs, follow their respective bosses to meetings, public events, business openings, and more, all with the expectation that they will remain between the legs of their charge to care for them.

Just last tuesday, for example, Prompto sat with Regis through an eight hour meeting on trade and commerce issues. By the end of it, Regis had gotten off eight times without anyone in the room batting an eye or paying Prompto any mind at all. It was a commonplace thing. It was expected. Prompto was slowly gaining a sense of honor and pride in the work he does.

Ignis had told him he would. That it was an exhilarating position.

As Noctis and Regis continue their conversation, Regis pats Prompto on the cheek. By now, Prompto knows full well what this means. Paying little mind to the fact that his best friend is seated mere feet away, Prompto pulls away from Regis just long enough to take one deep breath, wet his lips, and return to work, now bobbing his head on command.

He starts slow, the way Regis always wants him to, taking painstaking care to run his lips over every inch of Regis’ dick from hilt to tip, his mouth a perfect O shape. Above him, Regis sounds as if he is now fanning out a stack of paper on the table, something he needs to go over with his son, but Prompto favors fixating on the task at hand. He doesn’t have the head for political stuff like they do. But, when he spends 12+ hours a day some days with a cock in his mouth and his head in the clouds, he supposes he really doesn’t need to have the head for politics.

Prompto has a tally in his head for today. He arrived at work early this morning, having picked up another warmer’s shift due to illness. He’s been here since 5:00AM, and it must be nearing 11:00 now, perhaps later if Prompto has lost sense of time while kneeling under this table. His tally for the day is fourteen, and he’s greedier still for more. He wants to bring Regis over the edge at least thirty times before he has to return home for the night. He’ll be here until for at least 5:00pm, if not longer. He’s sure he can do it. And if he can earn more than that, he’ll go home all but walking on air- he’ll be so pleased with himself, he won’t be able to sleep.

Absently, as he swirls his tongue around the head of Regis’ cock, he hears the faint scraping of wooden chair legs against fine stone flooring, and the even fainter sound of Ignis’ knees popping softly after kneeling on them for so long. It must be later than he thought, if Noct is on his way to his fitting now. The perceived loss of time spurs Prompto on, moving on from the teasing gestures with his tongue to taking all of Regis into his mouth at once. He gags some, but Regis likes that. He’d told Prompto so after seeing Prompto fret about it.

Regis is larger than Prompto had expected, but his expectations before starting this job had been colored by the outwardly frail appearance much of Insomnia’s media played up for both hype factor and the occasional fear mongering. But he’s long and thick, and so veiny when fully erect that it makes Prompto’s mouth water. Which, in retrospect, is a good thing.

Regis likes when Prompto gets a bit messy and eager, spit sliding out of the corners of his lips as he puts everything he has into deepthroating him. Prompto hollows out his cheeks again, sucking in deep as he bobs away from Regis, only to quickly thrust himself back down to the base, giving neither Regis or himself any break. This continues for a while, Noct already having made his leave and someone new joining them in the room.

It sounds like Clarus. But distracted as he is, Prompto can’t tell and doesn’t really care. He pops himself free from Regis just long enough to tilt his head, opening wide and taking the King’s balls into his mouth, giving them the same fervent treatment he’d been giving his cock only moments before. They’re heavy and full and Prompto is tempting them to give up their orgasm, and the closer he can tell Regis is the better.

Regis is breathing heavier now, the conversation with his new guest breaking every few moments for Regis to release a cracked groan. Before the King comes, Prompto shifts attention back to his cock. He wouldn’t dream of allowing the king to come without his mouth there, happy to swallow every last bit of that heavy load. When Regis comes, he comes with a long moan, hands holding Prompto all the way down to his pelvis while come shoots out of him and slides down Prompto’s throat. Prompto squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in quick spurts through his nose to keep himself breathing at all while he waits a seemingly endless amount of time for Regis to finish and his grip on his hair to loosen some.

With one more orgasm pulled from Regis, Prompto adds it to his tally. Fifteen. Halfway to his goal, Prompto lets himself feel a bit of extra pride as he relaxes his shoulder and returns to the task of remaining still for Regis, warming his cock and coaxing it back to life as Regis continues his current meeting in peace.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely intended to post this earlier on in the day, but my sleep deprived body decided that today was the perfect day to sleep in until 7:30pm. Whoops. And as usual, I do not have a beta so expect wild & free shifts in tense and the odd typo or two. 
> 
> But here's this, please enjoy!

It’s 1:35 in the afternoon and sunlight is spilling into the Citadel’s East Wing garden through floor to ceiling glass paneling. Prompto has the time to enjoy the view, avidly darting from one side of the garden to the other, snapping photographs of everything from trees with beautiful, massive hanging fruits to flowers of every shape and shade, all blooming to perfection under the staff’s care. Prompto absolutely says this about every room in the Citadel he sees, but this- this is definitely his favorite. The room is warm, something that can’t be helped due to its greenhouse-like nature, but Lucian magic keeps it bearable.

The last thing the King wants is for visiting dignitaries to sweat themselves out of their suits and ties, after all. A muggy indoor garden would do no one any good.

“Dear sun,” Regis calls, and Prompto stills instantly, finger mid-snapshot. The nickname is new, arising only a week ago; just what triggered it, Prompto isn’t sure he’ll ever know, but every time the words fall from Regis’ lips, Prompto’s legs turn to jelly. When he finally turns, he can see the King, a smile as warm as ever resting on his lips. “We are here to have lunch, I believe. Come sit with me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He seats himself at Regis’ feet, an irresistible habit now. He’s seen other warmers during their breaks, seating sometimes across from Regis, sometimes not even in the same room as him, eager to use the free time they have away from Regis’ cock to fiddle with their phones and scarf down food. Prompto is as much a phone addict as anyone his age is these days, but in front of Regis, he forgets all about the thing. He’d only just been running around with his camera because they’d been waiting for their lunch to arrive.

The act of seating himself there makes Regis laugh, and Prompto doesn’t blame him; seated cross-legged on the floor, he must look like some eager pup, hanging onto Regis’ attention for dear life. That’s all he is, really. He doesn’t deny it. He wants to be Regis’ favorite. Not his only: Prompto knows Regis’ needs are demanding, that one mouth alone would never be enough to sate him at all hours of the day, every day of the week, every week of the month, every month of the year, for the remainder of Regis’ life. And aging though he may be, Regis is strong; in times of peace such as this, Lucian Kings and Queens have been recorded to live as old as 105, though far off stories tell of rulers even older, of individuals so in control of the family’s magic that they are able to sustain their life force indefinitely.

So, fifty-five more years, at minimum, and a lust that grows deeper and more difficult to quench with not only each passing year, but each passing month it seems. One person alone would not be able to sustain the kind of attention and care Regis needs. Such a person would never be allowed to sleep, to eat, to bathe or get up from their knees. They’d be there always, growing malnourished and frail long before the King himself ever did.

Prompto does not want to be Regis’ only; he may be a romantic at heart, one to swoon at the fantasy of such a thing, but before that he is competitive. Regis currently employs six dutiful cock warmers, Prompto included, and between the six of them they are able to coordinate schedules and make sure King Regis is cared for at all hours of the day and night. Prompto realistically cares little about being the only mouth to pleasure Regis. What he wants instead is to be the best. To be the one Regis calls upon when a shift is abandoned by one of the others. Today is a dream come true, in that sense. With Crowe having needed to call off, for both a nasty head cold and to help drive Libertus home from the hospital, Prompto had awoken this morning to the familiar ringtone he used specifically for calls from Regis. It had been 4:30 and Regis had sounded desperate and there was already a car waiting for Prompto outside his apartment door. All he’d needed to do was sprint to the shower, change out of his pajamas, and he was on his way.

He’s the newest of the lot, but he aims to be the best. The most devoted. He wants to be Regis’ favorite, to earn as much time with the King and his cock as possible. He should have listened to Ignis when the job was being explained to him in full for the first time. He should have listened. It’s so addicting, and ever warning Ignis had given him about that fact had gone in one ear and out the other. He’d come into this job expecting to give a coupe blowjobs a day and earn some decent cash, just to start saving up.

What he hadn’t expecting was a heightened pulse every time Regis pressed both his hands to either side of Prompto’s head to guide him slowly towards his dick. What he hadn’t expected was dreams, every single night, about servicing Regis in increasingly more open and public venues. He’s already served Regis during meetings, during press conferences, during important dinners with Lucian nobles. Prompto wants to do more, he wants to be seen between Regis’ legs everywhere. When the King goes out to dine, Prompto wants to be there, sucking buckets worth of come from his balls between the appetizers and the third course. He wants to be there when Regis leaves the city, attending events everywhere from Galdin to Accordo and beyond. He wants Regis to sit down in an open park on a summer day and ask him to please him there.

He’s addicted. He doesn’t come here for the pay any longer. He hunts every day for a way to show Regis this, to prove how happy he is to be here.

He’s dragged finally from these meditations by Regis passing Prompto’s health shake down to him. Prompto thanks him with a kiss to Regis’ thigh, then makes quick work of sucking down his makeshift meal. He could have anything he wanted here, but that doesn’t stop him from sticking to his own self-enforced diet. He rests his head against Regis’ leg as he sips and sucks, taking the straw perhap further into his mouth than necessary to get the job done.

Regis, with Prompto back at his side instead of flitting about the garden, seems content to sit in companionable silence, giving Prompto his much needed and well deserved break. He could get himself off now if he wanted to, but he’s trying so hard to wean himself off the need to place himself first before Regis. Ignis can come from taking care of Noct alone, from treating Noct with his tongue and hearing how the prince moans for him. Prompto aspires to be that way. If he were able to forget about the wetness forming between his legs and give himself over fully to his duty in the way Ignis is able to, that would be the ultimate dream come true, more so than anything else.

  
As it is, Prompto squirms, shifting every few moments in an attempt to garner any sort of friction he can get.

“Would you likes to undress, dear sun?” Regis asks, placing his utensils back onto his plate. “You may, if you are uncomfortable. It is rather warm in here this afternoon. I do not think you will freeze.” His words echo off into a soft laugh. Prompto scrambles to his feet, gushing out little “thank you, Your Majesty, thank you”’s as he places his now finished shake onto the table and begins peeling off every bit of clothing adorning his body.

“Red today?” Prompto blushes at the words, looking down at his briefs. Red and decorated with little black star patterns. Not his most provocative set of undergarments, but they fit him well and he sits snug and comfortable in them. Regis seems to approve, if nothing else. “Leave those on, if you would. And leave your clothes laid out on the chair there, I’ll have a member of the staff hold onto them for you, if you wish to remain undressed today.”

Prompto sinks easily back to his knees with a warmth pooling up inside of him, head nearly spinning from the prospect of it. Yes, he thinks. Yes. Yes. I want the entire building to know how totally yours I am.

“Y- Nn...” With Regis’ eyes on him once more, with Regis doling out his attention with ease, Prompto forgets about his own growing desire. “Your Majesty, would- should I go back to work now? Would you like me to...?”

It’s with what sounds almost like a hiss that Regis says, “Yes, Prompto,” and spreads his legs wider beneath the table to accept Prompto as he scoots onto his cushion and slides himself into places. Regis is hard and his flushed, demanding attention that Prompto feels the need to give. His lips are at home at the base of Regis’ cock, and he moves up and down it as if he were born for it. He uses his hands to play with Regis’s balls, knowing that Regis is likely eager to come now after a half an hour without any stimulation at all. It must have been torture. Prompto will have to start taking shorter breaks. He makes it a silent promise to himself.

With goal in mind and little time spent messing around, Regis is spilling down his throat in a matter of minutes, but Prompto doesn’t stop just because Regis has come once. He counts off in his head, all the orgasms from the morning and all the once since the earlier meeting with Clarus before lunch. That had been number twenty. And it’s only 1:45. He swirls his tongue around Regis as he bobs his head, and his hands continue to work the sensitive flesh of his balls, working them once more towards their purpose, begging them with each gentle squeeze to allow more come to spill out of Regis. Twenty-one, he counts after another few minutes. Then Twenty-two. And twenty-three, tallying up to there within an hour, before Regis finally relents and pats Prompto’s cheek, signaling to switch gears and go still.

“We are needed in the throne room, dear sun. Let us go.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed, but I've added some new tags to account for me editing this fic to now star a trans boy Prompto. I attempted to write him otherwise, but I have always written him as transgender before now and I feel more comfortable writing him as such. I've edited bits of the previous chapters to account for this. 
> 
> It hasn't changed anything of the overall plot, though, but I apologize for any mid-story confusion. It's just that Prompto will appear in more parts of this series later on, and I want to be writing him in the way that's most comfortable to me.
> 
> As always, though, I have no beta! We're running wild and free with tense shifts and typos. I'm expecting one or two more chapters to this part of the series, then I'll be moving on to another addition!

The man petitioning King Regis is most certainly not from Insomnia. Prompto can tell not by his accent, but by the way he stops speaking every few sentences or so to clear his throat. By the way his words come out stuttered. By the way Regis has to constantly remind him that his time runs thinner and thinner with each passing second.   
  
This petitioner has never been to Insomnia. He’s likely only heard of royal tradition from stories. Prompto can’t even begin to imagine the embarrassment that arises from seeing the King of the entire nation of Lucis relax lazily into his throne with a young blonde man seated patiently between his legs, still as a statue, acting as nothing more than a warm hole for the King to rest his dick in. This visitor is frazzled.   
  
Prompto, on the other hand, is reveling in the way Regis pays no mind to him at all. He hasn’t even stroked Prompto’s hair since this petitioner began his spiel on the transport of magically enhanced items out of the kindrom. Prompto is only a hole. His eyes lay closed peacefully, the voices surrounding him in the room somehow sounding much farther away than they are.   
  
The only thing he focuses on are Regis’ cues, waiting patiently as possible, keeping himself so still he forgets he’s even there, in a way. He feels floaty and light. His cue to act a bit more awake only comes when Regis taps two fingers against his cheek. Wetting his tongue, he sucks in and slides himself all the way down Regis’ length from head to hilt, moans softly and shivers at how naturally it fits down his mouth and throat.   
  
Above him, Regis groans softly and Prompto can no longer hear the petitioner speaking. It takes every scrap of willpower Prompto has not to squirm. Already his mouth is watering, and he lets some of that drip out the corners of his mouth. It helps as he slides back up the entire length of Regis’ cock. Once at the head, he treats the head with his tongue, swirling it around in a circle slowly then rubbing it up and down along the underside until he feels Regis buck into his mouth some. Taking the hint, he moves inch by inch back down, bobbing his head as he goes.   
  
“You may take your leave now.” Regis’ voice sounds thick and rough, his words final and leaving no space for argument. Prompto doesn’t care much to look and see if the petitioner leaves on his own or if he has to be led out. He hollows his cheeks, slides up the length, lets himself go lose as he moves back down, all while letting the tip of his tongue trace along the veins.   
  
Regis groans loud and Prompto takes pride in it, takes pride in how he’s able to make Regis relax back into the throne and slide down it. It’s within a few deep thrusts into Prompto’s mouth that he spills, holding Prompto to the base of his cock with hands tethered through his hair. Twenty-four, and Prompto is in heaven. He isn’t given a moment’s break, though; even as another petitioner is led into the room, Regis thrusts himself even further down Prompto’s throat, fucking into his mouth with what appears to be little care at all.   
  
But Prompto knows better than that. He knows the King trusts him to take it. He knows Regis knows exactly how rough he’s able to be with him.   
  
And he’s rough. Prompto moans each time Regis brings him near to the point of gagging. There’s a familiar burn at the back of his throat and it’s something Prompto is slowly learning to live for. Just when he thinks tears might start forming in his eyes, Regis buries himself to the hilt and forces everything he has down Prompto’s throat.   
  
When Prompto finally overcomes the swimming sensation that fills his head, he realizes Regis is using a thumb to wipe some wetness away from his cheeks, smiling down at him despite the petitioner rattling along regardless of their actions. Just knowing they’re being watched makes Prompto whine, but Regis looks so proud that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.   
  
The last time Regis had been that rough with him, Prompto had reeled back, sputtering and coughing, all while trying to apologize for the mess he’d made and the rudeness of letting so much of Regis’ come fall anywhere but down his throat. Now, though, despite the subtle raw feeling he feels, he’s managed to keep himself in place; drooling, yes, and a few tears shed, but lips still locked around Regis’ cock in reverence.   
  
He could cry all over again, with just how pleased he is with himself. Twenty-five. Twenty-five and he’s managed to take Regis at a rougher pace than he’s ever been able to before, and he’s so close to his goal.  
  
Regis combs a hand through his hair in comfort, but otherwise returns his undivided attention to the business at hand, leaving Prompto still once more, breathing through his nose to catch his breath and savoring the lingering taste of Regis on his tongue.


End file.
